Michelle de Bruin will, no doubt, continue to protest her innocence in the wake of yesterday's decision by FINA, the governing body of international swimming, to impose a four-year ban after she was found guilty of tampering with a drugs test. It is a devastating ruling. Unless rescinded in some further appeal process, the four-year ban - the maximum allowed under FINA rules - will herald the effective end of Michelle de Bruin's swimming career.
There is other collateral damage. Michelle de Bruin could be stripped of the two gold and two silver medals that she won at the European championships in Seville last summer. She will, however, be allowed to retain the three gold and one bronze medal that she won at Atlanta two years ago as the contaminated test took place long after her Olympic victory. In truth, this will be but a small consolation. The gold that she won at Atlanta has, by now, become tarnished.
There is a sad element of tragedy about the affair. And Michelle de Bruin is not the only casualty. Most fair-minded people will feel a great deal of sympathy for her family who have continued to protest her innocence - even as their daughter's supporters and corporate sponsors drifted away. Last night, her supporters were hinting at some kind of US-inspired conspiracy and complaining about the inadequacy of FINA's legal procedures. The harsh reality, however, is that FINA, in the first case involving alleged tampering of a drugs sample, trod very carefully before adjudicating. Talk of a conspiracy seems far-fetched.
In a wider sense, the Michelle de Bruin affair is a defining moment for Irish sport. When awkward questions concerning her progress were raised by Janet Evans at Atlanta and, not least, by Tom Humphries of this newspaper, among others, the natural inclination was to accuse the Americans of bitterness in defeat and to shoot the messenger. Michelle de Bruin was a charming and articulate Olympic champion. As a nation, we desperately wanted to believe that our sporting heroes were a race apart, more honourable and less conniving, somehow immune from the ills of modern professional sport. Today, Michelle de Bruin is shown to have feet of clay.
Perhaps, that is no bad thing. The ambivalence that has clung to her achievements has been removed by FINA's firm ruling. Every promising teenage athlete who dreams of glory has learned a salutary lesson: any suspicion of violating the rules and ethics of sport can only end in tears.
Michelle de Bruin and her husband, the former discus thrower, Erik de Bruin, have learned this to their cost. Both now share the dubious distinction of suffering a four-year ban from their respective sports for doping offences. Both have been found to have undermined the integrity of their sport. And both have suffered the consequences.